


Si's Secret Biking Past

by colisahotnorthernmess



Category: Find It Fix It Flog It RPF
Genre: Biking, Coming Out, First Time, Kissing, Light Angst, Love, M/M, Talk of Previous Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:07:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21837070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colisahotnorthernmess/pseuds/colisahotnorthernmess
Summary: Henry couldn't believe it. He really did think he had just wandered into some sort of parallel dimension, where everything was all topsy-turvy, and turned inside out. Simon O'Brien - the same Simon O'Brien - was talking to him about motorbikes, of all things, in a passionate and knowledgeable manner.What could surprise Henry more than finding out that Simon knows about biking? Maybe finding out that Simon's secret passion isn't bikes, but actually the bikers themselves.
Relationships: Simon O'Brien/Henry Cole
Comments: 4
Kudos: 2





	Si's Secret Biking Past

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that this is a work of fiction involving real people written by myself - it is a completely made-up fantasy and is in no way intended to cause offence.

"Right. Are you ready for this?" Simon announced, entering the last barn.

He was sick to _death_ of Henry bringing him to places with nothing but tractors and motorbikes, and absolutely zilch for him - even if he had managed to pick up that cute vintage hatstand on the way in here. Of course, Henry knew this about Simon - it was a commonly-known fact - so he was bracing himself for the very worst when Si bellowed such an foreboding introduction. What he really _ didn't_ expect him to say was: "This is the Kawasaki Z1. This is largely considered the be the first classic to come out of Japan, because it fused together the reliability of the Japanese engine with the classic lines of the British bike." Well, _someone_ had been doing their homework, hadn't they? Was all of this to show off in front of Henry?

"Sorry. Have I just appeared in some weird universe?" Henry almost felt the urge to take off his glasses, clean them, and put them back on again - merely to make sure that he was looking at the same man who had been talking to him not ten minutes before about his hatred of all things automotive and mechanical.

"I've... never told you this," Si shyly glanced away, "But... when I was a youth... I used to hang round with bikers..."

Oh my gosh. Henry couldn't believe it. He really did think he had just wandered into some sort of parallel dimension, where everything was all topsy-turvy, and turned inside out. Simon O'Brien - the _same _Simon O'Brien - was talking to him about motorbikes, of all things, in a passionate and knowledgeable manner. Simon was describing the Kawasaki Z1 to him in great, comprehensive detail. As he went on, Henry simply couldn't stop himself from staring in disbelief. "Simon, the biker," he thought, with a swoon. He couldn't quite get his head around the idea, but he knew that he liked it and that it was bloody exciting. Si had a _secret _biking past.

After allowing the younger man to fully explain himself, Henry felt as though he had to intervene. "Why didn't you tell me this before?" he asked him, incredulous, and still in shock.

"Because I knew it would give you the opportunity to bore me with your motorbike stories, and I didn't want that," Simon forced a smile.

Henry swooped in and grabbed Si, locking him into a bear hug and giving him little warning with it - a show of affection which said to Simon 'You're one of us now'. The Liverpudlian slowly managed to untangle himself from his co-host's arms, unlooping his limbs from the embrace, and - still holding Cole's hands loosely within his own - he looked up at him, a mild sense of sadness to his expression as he held his gaze.

"What is it, Si?"

"Well, that's not the only... thing really. Erm-- it's not the full story, if I'm being honest," he said, nervously. "It wasn't really bik-_ers_, as in _plural_, that I used to hang around with. It was... well... just this _one_ lad... that I was--" he coughed to disguise his words, embarrassed by them clearly, "--seeing."

Si watched as Henry's eyes widened to the point that he wasn't sure whether his eyelids were on invisible strings - and that, if his eyes opened any wider, he might lose his eyelids altogether - as if someone had pulled on the cord of a roller blind too roughly, and the material was at risk of falling down the back. _Boy_, was Henry finding out a lot about him today. Why did Si even want to mention any of this? Why did he want to impress Henry with his knowledge of the Z1? Deep down, he _knew_ the reason why - and, if he wasn't careful, he'd be re-living 1983 all over again. "He got me into the whole biking thing. It thrilled me. And I was head over heels. It didn't end well," he lamented.

"It _didn't_?" Henry leaned forward, eagerly anticipating the next part of the story, as if he was watching the latest blockbuster film at the pictures, and the hero was about to leap through a glass pane.

"No," Simon uttered, glumly. "He didn't want his friends knowing that we were... _together_. He wasn't ready to come out to his mum and dad."

"Si... Mate... I'm sorry," Henry reached out to touch Simon, poised to run a reassuring thumb along the side of his cheek.

"Let's not talk about it," he insisted, and the Shed and Buried presenter immediately retracted his hand.

The pair moved away from the Kawasaki Z1 motorbike, which had become one _hell _ of a conversation starter as it happened - and they began to examine other items in the shed; Si was digging through some piles of automotive junk, where Henry had begun to scour the shelves at the far the end of the out-building. Unfortunately - for Simon anyway - Henry was just one of those people who didn't know when to shut up, and could never let _anything_ drop. He was half-way through examining some rusty, hole-ridden oil cans which were languishing on the third shelf down, when he felt the need to turn around and say to O'Brien, "Do you _still_ have a thing for bikers then?"

"Please... Just stop! I said that I didn't want to talk about it," Si retaliated, shouting angrily and pushing Henry back into the shelves. It didn't occur to Simon until after his outburst exactly _why_ Henry might be asking him such a thing, but - with his hands splayed over Cole's chest, all ten fingers firmly pressed into his skin, through his clothes - and the blond-haired man's eyes trained on him completely, the speed of his breathing increasing by the second - it suddenly became obvious. And, his hands crumpled within the folds of Henry's t-shirt material, Si pulled the older man down by the fabric - only two inches, but what felt like _ten feet_ and down through the concrete floor - into a kiss, the two beings absolutely ravenous for one another.

Simon was tugging ferociously at the pointless garment and - soon - Henry caught on to the idea that it would be better if he removed it altogether. He wriggled out of his shirt and threw it onto the floor, hoping that it wouldn't get too dirty and he would have to find an excuse to explain its condition - it was clean on today. Cole soon realised that this was what O'Brien had wanted: Si took the time to trace the many scars adorning Henry's flesh - his little 'trophies' from all of his biking mishaps - and kiss each and every one of them better. He followed a trail, from his chest, with the odd scuff - to his neck, a place so sensitive that it made Henry almost melt into the touch - and then ran his lips along the shoulder, which was noticeably scarred, down to his forearm, lightly dusted with blond fuzz, until he was kissing the back of his hand.

"Is that a good enough answer for you?" Si gasped into the palm of Henry's hand, before bringing it up to his own face - allowing Henry to caress his cheek now when he had previously denied him.

"I don't know. Is it a 'yes'?" Henry asked him, still somehow unsure. He then cupped his friend's face, fingers mapping the stubbled chin, lovingly and adoringly.

"God, Cole," he laughed. "Did you really go to Eton? How can you still be so _daft _not to know?"


End file.
